He Just Loves It Rough
by Tuuli
Summary: Warning: SLASH, as in, mm. Just a story about the way Oliver Wood is. A bit AU I guess. Oliver WoodMarcus Flint


WARNINGS: Okay folks, where shall I start... yeah, this is SLASH, so anyone who isn't a fan of m/m should *leave* right now... and yeah, there's some mild violence, nothing too bad though. That's it I guess. Oh, apart from the fact that the boys are minors. Do I need to warn you about that, too?  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, blah blah, you know the thrill. And I respect the mighty JKR; I'm very fond of her stories (isn't that pretty obvious here?). No profit made, just a simple attempt to amuse myself.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Someone said Oliver just *needs* to be fucked; might do him some good. Well, I found myself thinking about those words and here's what came out of it. And YOU ALL know how important feedback is, so REVIEW, *please*, or mail me directly at tuuli1@nic.fi. *Shakes her head* I just can't believe I've written this! Okay, Ashley, I blame you, for making it easy for me to start reading HP fiction (did I mention yours was the first HP fic I've ever read?).  
  
~~~  
  
Oliver Wood, no matter how gorgeous and wonderful, had a reputation of being a Quidditch freak. Everyone knew he loved Quidditch above all else and was a damn good flier, too. He was popular, friendly, charming in his own way - but never seemed to pay much attention to anything. His teammates complained all the time what a monster he was when it came to Quidditch practise.   
  
"If it was up to him, we'd be practising twenty-four seven," was Katie Bell very fond of saying.  
  
And it was true. Oliver himself spent most of his spare time in the air. In his opinion, the Gryffindor team would have needed to practise every single day, but other people didn't agree with him too much. Even professor McGonagall, who respected Wood's Quidditch skills very much, checked the practise schedule regularly. Just to keep an eye on her team. She didn't want the players to be too exhausted.   
  
So, in other words, Quidditch was Oliver's life. He came from a wizarding family where sports were highly respected. In school, he wasn't a bad student, but not a star either. Everyone knew he adored Harry Potter as his Seeker.   
  
He was also pretty uptight. He only relaxed completely high in the air. It was just the way he was. Some people blamed it on Percy Weasley, the annoying Head Boy, who he was good friends with. They said he had just spent too much time with him, that he had gotten his tenseness from Weasley.   
  
Oliver was used to winning. He was the Keeper, for Christ's sake, his team often won or lost with him. Winning was often up to him, and he *wanted* to win. He *needed* to win. And with Harry Potter as the team Seeker, they were almost invincible. Well, when Potter wasn't injured or in the middle of one of his adventured, that is. And the other team was playing by the book, which Slytherin, for one, never did.   
  
But on that day, to Oliver's big surprise and humiliation, they lost against Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff! No matter how well he played, it wasn't good enough. The fact that Harry caught the Snitch didn't help. They lost. They failed miserably. And of course, Oliver had only one person to really blame. Himself.  
  
That evening he just disappeared. No one saw him during the entire evening, which was good; they didn't want to get in his way anyway. Seeing Oliver Wood at that moment might not have been a very good idea. Most Gryffindors were relieved to see Wood wasn't in the common room. Everyone assumed he was sulking alone in some dark corner.  
  
They couldn't have been more wrong.   
  
~~~  
  
Someone grabbed Oliver's sleeve when he was on his way to Gryffindor common room and made him stop. He lifted his gaze from his notes and looked into two laughing eyes.   
  
"Flint," Oliver said, trying to keep his voice calm. He still hadn't gotten over the humiliation of the Quidditch match and had just been going through their strategy in his head.   
  
"Wood," Marcus Flint responded stupidly. "Heard about your little... game."   
  
There was laugher in his voice, too. They were now standing in the middle of the hallway, alone, with no one else in sight. Oliver briefly wondered what had happened to Flint's annoying 'friends'. But then again, he couldn't have cared less; all he wanted was to think about Quidditch and Marcus wasn't much of a nice distraction.  
  
"How is it, that you lost against *Hufflepuff*?" Marcus continued.   
  
"They scored more than we did," Wood said, looking at Flint in the eye. "That's what losing means."   
  
"I know what losing means," the older boy said, annoyed by Wood's arrogant behaviour, and grabbed the front of Oliver's robe. "You're pissing me off. You pathetic loser. Listen, Wood, you like being a Captain? Because I do. But on the other hand, I'm not the one with the loser team..."   
  
For a split second, Oliver stood there and stared at him furiously. Exactly two seconds later Flint was holding his nose with his left hand and practically trying to strangle Wood with his right. Oliver tried not to let the pain in his knuckles show while he struggled to get free from Marcus' grip. Seeing that Wood was about to flee, Flint pushed him into an empty classroom to be able to kick his ass without being seen.   
  
Flint attacked Oliver and pushed him against one of the walls.   
  
"Don't you ever hit me again, you little faggot," he breathed and lifted his fist to break Oliver's nose.   
  
Then, with a surprising strength, Oliver pushed Flint away and against another wall before the Slytherin had time to move.   
  
"Don't you ever call my team losers," he threatened with a calm but breathless voice.   
  
Unlike his opponent, Oliver didn't make another move to hurt the older boy. His first hit had already taken away most of his frustration. Now he just wanted to look big and scary and... go to his bed and get some sleep. And then, tomorrow morning, he'd hopefully wake up and realize today had been a dream. A bad, bad dream. A nightmare...  
  
Then, just like that, Marcus Flint was kissing him. Marcus goddamn Flint was *kissing* him! Oliver was pretty sure Flint was trying to bruise him. Once Flint let go of him, he just snickered and asked, "What was it that you called me? A faggot? What does that make *you*, then?"   
  
"I despise you," was Flint's only response before he pulled Oliver into another kiss.   
  
It wasn't such a big surprise to Oliver that he was enjoying this. He had known for a while now that boys, too, caught his attention. He knew some pupils were... gay or whatever they were; he had spotted them looking at him and some had even made a move on him. But Marcus? Marcus *Flint*? He hadn't seen this coming. But no matter why Marcus was doing this... Oliver could still try and take the pleasure out of it.   
  
"Oh yeah? You have a funny way of showing it," he said cockily and nibbled Flint's ear, maybe a bit too roughly, since it made Flint grunt.  
  
This time, Flint didn't say anything. He just grunted again, quietly, and decided Wood could cope with fewer clothes on. He pushed the Gryffindor a bit further but followed him immediately, not wanting to break their lip-lock. Once they were both more or less naked, Marcus attacked Oliver's body, kissing, licking, biting, and marking. And Oliver... he loved every second of it.   
  
"I'm going to fuck you senseless," Marcus announced while he was trying to decide with one of Wood's nipples he should lick first.  
  
Wood certainly didn't mind. He had been there before, having sex with another pupil in an empty classroom. But it had been with a girl, which had been... quite nice but... not nearly as hot as this. He loved the feeling of someone else taking the lead. As he thought about it later on, he came to the conclusion that he just *loved* it rough.   
  
As Oliver started to get a little too loud, Marcus performed some simple charms, making sure the door was locked and the room was soundproof.   
  
"Scream as loud as you like, Wood," Flint then said before grabbing hold of him again.   
  
And Oliver did.   
  
Especially when he came harder than he ever had.   
  
~~~  
  
The Weasley Twins were sure their Quidditch Captain would kill them as soon as he got the chance. They were telling everyone, as dramatically as they could, that they had had a good life and that they would miss them. And oh, don't forget to come to their funeral.   
  
Professor McGonagall knew she needed to have a word with Wood, which she wasn't really looking forward to. When he was sulking, even though he always tried to be polite to his teachers... well... he just wasn't very much fun to be around then. McGonagall felt almost sorry for Wood's classmates, who'd have to look at him all day.   
  
Perhaps it was Percy Weasley whose situation was the worst. He and Wood were good friends, and roommates, and they saw each other pretty much. They even sat next to each other at breakfast. They had same classes and they often studied together, Percy helping Oliver out. Even though Percy told everyone he'd be okay and he could deal with Oliver, most people knew better. Poor Percy.   
  
And when Oliver finally got to the table, he was smiling. He said cheerfully that he had been flying a bit before breakfast and that he had realized why they had lost. Even Percy, who still looked suspicious though, was so relieved to see his friend happy that he didn't say anything about how going out before breakfast was against the rules.   
  
When The Weasley Twins came to see Wood, ready to face their destiny, Oliver just told them everybody needed some rest know and that he wasn't going to put them to practise in at least a week. The twins looked at him with both of their mouths hanging open before Fred managed to say,  
  
"We thought you'd be furious today because we lost yesterday. What happened to you?"   
  
At the same moment, without anyone noticing, Oliver accidentally caught Marcus' eye. Marcus was sitting in another table but perfectly so that he could see him. Oliver smirked and said,   
  
"Oh... nothing important, nothing at all."  
  
And Marcus turned away to finish his breakfast, his face a nice shade of red. And Wood just smirked again, and couldn't help but think about how much they both had liked it rough.   
  
~Feedback more than appreciated~ 


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